


Do-Over

by foolishgames



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 22:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolishgames/pseuds/foolishgames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For  prompt on aianonlovefest: Allison/Tommy, first time sex. Allison is a virgin and she wants Tommy to ~teach her about sex. (I kind of spaced on the 'virgin' part)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do-Over

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betad. So, so un-betad.

Tommy’s still not sure how he ends up getting invited to all the girls’ shit.

It’s not like they really have that on tour anyway, the girls and boys splitting up on their days off to do different things. Half the time it’s mostly boys who want to stay at home and do their nails or go shopping, while the girls want to go paintballing or find the nearest steakhouse.

But one evening it just works out that way, all the boys busy or tired and all the girls congregate in Brooke and Sasha’s room, and when Tommy sticks his head in to ask if he can borrow Sasha’s purple nailpolish he’s corralled to provide musical entertainment for the impromptu girls’ night.

“I have a penis,” he protests mildly as Brooke shoves a guitar at him. “I’m not a girl. You know that, right?”

“Shut up and play,” says Brooke sweetly, and if Tommy ever had the ability to say no to Brooke, he’s lost it somewhere.

It’s not so bad for all that. He sits on the floor and plays quietly, not really songs, just pretty noise, background music. Liz braids his hair and Cam paints his toenails and Sasha makes him sing Sex Farm and do all the stupid voices until the girls are rolling around giggling. But mostly they just do their thing, and he plays his guitar sits there feeling like he’s in a roomful of people he totally adores, and Allison comes up and leans against his shoulder and watches him play in that peculiarly focused way she has.

He’s teaching her to play, kind of – she knows the basics, but she feels self-conscious in their little traveling circus of music, so they jam together sometimes and he gives her tips and teaches her new songs and is patient with her. He’s not exactly unaware of the little crush she has on him, but it’s cool, it’s not weird, because she’s so oddly grown-up in some ways, so it’s not intrusive, and they’re friends. She just likes to watch his hands when he plays.

They’re sitting on the floor, tucked down between one the beds and the wall, and above and behind them the other girls are talking. The conversation has turned to complaining about their exes of various sorts, their deficiencies in bed and elsewhere, and Tommy grins, because he’s pretty sure they’ve actually forgotten that he’s here. It’s confirmed when Cam finishes a litany of complaints against an obnoxious ex with “But at least she gave awesome head, unlike Allison’s little mistake,” and Allison comes up off Tommy’s shoulder and says “Oh my god, Cam!”, and Cam claps a hand over her mouth and Tommy sits up straight and says, “Wait, what?”

Allison’s bright red, totally mortified. “Oh my god,” she mutters.

“Forget I said that,” said Cam.

Tommy looks from Allison, hiding her face, to Cam’s genuine chagrin, and says “Yeah, okay.” He nudges Allison with his shoulder. “Hey, listen to this,” he says, and plays this dumb song he wrote with Dave a week or two back, just fucking around, tentatively titled I’m Not Gay I Just Like Kissing Boys Sometimes. Adam had laughed until he cried when he heard it, but Liz throws a pillow at his head and Sasha blows a raspberry at him. Allison uncurls from her embarrassment, though.

He expects her to avoid him for a while, or maybe be awkward, but she plunks down next to him on the couch on the bus the next day when nobody’s around and says “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Okay. No, hang on,” he says and turns off his ipod, sits up straight. “Now, go.”

She shrugs. “That’s about as far as I got.” She’s pink about the cheeks, but she’s not avoiding his gaze. “I just – Cam wasn’t meant to tell anyone, but she teases me about it. She it’s so straight-girl typical.”

“That your first time sucked?” He nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that can happen. Mine sure did.”

She cocks her head, openly curious, and he shrugs. “It’s normal, you know? I was seventeen and nervous as hell and I had no idea what I was doing. You’re never good at something you’ve never done before.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just. I know it’s normal to be bad, but – that bad?”

She looks upset, and Tommy narrows his eyes and leans a little closer. “Are we talking – did he hurt you?”

She looks away and shrugs, shoulders curling in a little. “No. I mean, it hurt a bit, and then it didn’t, but it didn’t feel good, either. It was just,” she breaks off and makes a gesture that Tommy takes to mean uncomfortable and unpleasant and a lot embarrassing.

“Aw, honey,” says Tommy, genuinely sympathetic. “It does get better, I swear.” He puts an arm around her and pulls her hot face down to his shoulder, and she goes limp against him.

“That’s what they say,” she says into his shirt. “Except Cam, she says it’s better with girls and I should consider switching teams.”

“Well, you could do worse.” A thought occurs. “Hey, did he at least get you off after?”

She makes a little noise and shakes her head, and Tommy frowns. “Well, that’s just not polite. Who was this guy? I think I need to give him a lesson in manners.”

Allison giggles. “Just a guy. Friend of a friend.”

“Just a guy? Alli.” He winds a strand of her hair around his fingers and tugs. “Honey, is there something you want to tell me?”

“No,” she says, low, and presses her nose into his shoulder. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, anger and compassion and disappointment all twisting up inside him. “Baby, what’d you do that for?”

“’Cause I’m an idiot,” she says, a little squeak of tears in her voice. “An’ I felt so dumb after, except it was my stupid fault. I thought, yeah, someone a bit older, who knows what they’re doing, right? But he was just. Not.”

He puts both arms around her and lifts her so she’s sitting in his lap and he can hold her properly. “I’m gonna need a name, baby, so I can find this guy and beat some fucking manners into him.”  
She makes a little protesting noise and cuddles closer. “I don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“Okay. Okay,” he says, and strokes her hair until she’s humming and not crying anymore, and then keeps going because it feels good and she’s all relaxed and smells nice. Eventually she lifts her head and kisses him, right at the side of his mouth, and it’s a question.

“Oh, honey,” he says, and turns his face a little away, but he’s smiling. “I would take such good care of you, you know?”

She sighs. “Yeah, I know. I just… wondered.”

Adam comes out from the back of the bus then, sees them on the couch, and squeals “Ooh, cuddles!” right before he flings himself on top of them. Tommy finds himself on the bottom of a pile of limbs and giggling pop stars, because his life is just that awesome.

It takes longer than Tommy expects, but about three days later Alli appears at his elbow at breakfast and says “Wait, why not?”

Tommy holds up a hand, finishes his mouthful of breakfast burrito and knocks back a swig of the orange juice Adam insists he have every day. “Well, I’m ten years older than you,” he points out. Allison makes an impatient noise and gestures for him to keep talking. “You’re only barely legal, Adam would kill me. Or fire me. Or try to make me marry you.”

“Pssh, Adam adores you,” says Allison, and steals a bite of his burrito. “And I’ll protect you.”

“Honey, you’re eighteen. You don’t need to be fucking around with older men just because of one bad experience.”

Allison scowl and flips her hair out of her face. “You’re not older men. You’re Tommy, and it’s not because of one bad experience, I just want to.” She glares at the table, and he sighs.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“And I still want to. It’s not like I’m gonna follow you around or try and be your girlfriend or whatever.”

Dave joins them then, effectively ending the conversation, but Tommy knows it’s not over, and when he gets back to his hotel room that night to find Allison on his bed, he knows he was right.

She’s on the bed, at least, not in it, and fully dressed, tank top and frilly little skirt, sitting cross-legged and looking thoughtful.

“You get lost?” he says, and she makes a face at him.

“No. I just wanted to talk.”

He toes off his shoes and crawls up beside her. “It’s not because I don’t want to, you know. ‘Cause you’re really gorgeous.”

She blushes a little and sways towards him. “Yeah?”

He pushes her, gently. “Shut up, you know you are. But I don’t feel right about it. You should be with somebody who wants you to be their girlfriend, you know?”

She looks at him with her mouth twisted to the side. “You think so?” she says and he nods. “But I want to have sex with you.”

He thinks if she’d made any kind of move right then, he’d have kicked her right out. But she’s sitting on his bed, fully clothed, looking more stubbornly quizzical than any kind of seductive, and he’s pretty sure this is a battle he won’t win. “Is your plan to keep nagging until I give in?” he asks.

“I don’t nag,” she says. “I’m persistent.”

He covers his eyes and groans; because now he has to have sex with the gorgeous eighteen-year-old, and teach her all about making it awesome, as if being a rock star and living his dream wasn’t enough. Like, this is actually his life. He keeps waiting for the bitch-slap.

“You know, I saw this in a movie once,” he tells her. “Except she was an alien, and she was all ‘teach me about this earth thing you call kissing,” and then she ate his head.”

“I won’t eat your head,” Allison promises, and there’s a nervous shaky lilt to her voice that makes him want to wrap her up and protect from everybody in the world.

He kisses her instead, and she makes a little noise, like she wasn’t actually expecting it. It stays sweet and chaste, just sitting next to her with their lips brushing, and then she leans in and licks across his lower lip, bold. He smiles into it, presses deeper just because he can, just because he’s decided he’s allowed to do this.

She’s breathing hard when he pulls away, looking a little stunned. “Really?” she says, and it’s so sweetly excited he almost feels guilty.

“Really.” He kisses her nose, because she’s just so cute. “Wait here a sec, okay?” He goes to the bathroom and rifles through his bathroom kit until he comes up with a couple of condoms, grabs a hand towel, and then as an afterthought, his lube, because better to have it and not need it.

When he comes out she’s lying down, a little awkwardly, fingers clenched in the hem of her skirt. His heart jumps a little and he has another moment of anger and sadness and determination to hurt whoever thought it was okay to take someone like her, something like this, and be so careless about it.

“Don’t look so scared, honey,” he says with a smile, and she returns a weak little laugh. “Come on, just relax. Come here.” And he crawls over to lie beside her and kisses her face, brushes her hair back and presses his lips to her cheeks and forehead and eyes and chin until the tension goes out of her.

“I don’t,” she says and bites her lip. “You might have to tell me what to do.”

He presses their foreheads together. “Whatever you like. Whatever feels good. And you tell me what feels good, or if something’s bad and you want to stop. That’s how it gets good, okay? That’s the only rule.”

She nods and licks her lips. “Okay. I can do that. Just… go slow?”

“Pretend I’m a turtle,” he says solemnly. “A sexy turtle.”

She cracks up, nerves giving way to slightly hysterical laughter, and he kisses her while she’s laughing, swallows it down, and keeps kissing her. She’s a little clumsy, but eager, too much tongue, and he slides a hand into her hair and gentles her down, teases her by pulling away and then pressing back, shows her how to make it slow and sweet. She picks it up fast, slides closer until their knees get in the way, twists and wriggles until she’s fitted up against him, breasts pressing firmly into his chest, legs all tangled together. She feels good, soft and warm and touching his face with tentative hands, and he puts his arm around her waist and holds her there just to feel how slim and girlish she is.

She tenses again when he presses her onto her back, but he just keeps kissing her, stroking the skin at her waist where her shirt has hiked up, and she goes limp again in fairly short order when he starts in on her throat. She’s amazingly sensitive to touch, especially just behind her ears, which makes her shudder, and putting his mouth to the hollow of her collarbone makes her twist up in his grip, her breathing gone punchy and short.

He could do this all night, and happily, lie here and just taste her lovely mouth and soft skin and feel her shuddering against him, but she’s pushing back restlessly now, her hands climbing his shoulders to tangle in his hair.

“Okay,” he says, pulling back a little, and then gets a little distracted by the way her mouth is hanging open a little, the swelling of her bottom lip, and he has to nibble on it a little before he can go on. “Okay, the next part is getting a bit naked, if you want. Or a lot naked. It’s up to you.”

She blinks up at him. Her pupils are a little dilated. “You first?” she suggests, so he pulls himself away from her warmth, sits up on his heels, and strips off his shirt. She reaches up, touches his arms, his tattoos, carefully like they might rub off, and he puts his fingertips on the pulse at her wrist.

“It’s okay,” he reminds her. “You can do whatever you want.” Her gaze flicks up to his face and then back down; she stares at his nipples, gets herself upright.

He swears when she puts her mouth to one; he fucking loves having his nipples played with, but he hadn’t expected the boldness of her. She licks like it’s an icecream, glances up to smile a little at his reaction, and then ducks back down to suck, her hands resting lightly at his waist to hold him still. He grabs at her hair, gently as he can, presses her head closer lets his breath come in pants.

“Is that good?” she says, and he remembers the one rule he gave her.

“That feels awesome, baby, I love it,” he tells her, and groans out his approval when she starts on the other one, little scrape of teeth this time, sucking harder and using her fingers to roll over the nipple she isn’t playing with. She does that for while, and then kisses her way back up his chest, bites his jaw, and smiles.

“Yeah, smug,” he says fondly, and hooks his fingers under the hem of her shirt. “Okay?”

She lifts her arms. “Go for launch,” she says, and starts laughing when her shirt’s only half-off, so Tommy has to stop and untangle her, and then unsnaps her bra before she has time to get shy. She gives this little gasp and her hands fly up like she’s going to hide, but he topples her back onto the bed so her hair spreads out behind her and she throws her hands out to catch herself, bouncing.

“Okay?” he checks, and she nods, blushing. “Don’t hide away, baby, you’re gorgeous, okay? I want to touch you. Can I do that?”

She nods again, and then squeaks when he cups her breasts in his hands. Gentle, gentle, thumbs the nipples and a little squeeze, check her reaction, her flushed cheeks, and she’s fine, so he gives into temptation and leans down to mouth over them, press her tits together and bury his face between them, suck her nipples until they’re stiff and rosy and she’s squirming and clutching at his shoulders and making little noises.

“Gotta tell me what you like, baby,” he teases, and she pulls his bangs, too worked up to really be annoyed.

“I like that,” she says, breathless. “I want – Tommy, I want,” and he takes pity on her, slides his hand up her thigh until he’s touching the hem of her panties.

“Yeah?” he says and she nods, gulping in air. He watches her face while he slides them down, smiles a little as he kneels between her legs and strokes the inside of her knee. “Can you try to look less like I’m about to snap and chew your face off?” It’s a lame joke, but she giggles all breathless anyway, and lets her legs fall open at his urging. She’s still wearing her skirt, rucked up around her hips, and she’s shaved her legs, but nothing higher. He pets the curls and smiles, she’s a younger bed partner than he’s had in a long time, but she's the only one not waxed bald like some ten-year-old.

“You too,” she says, and it takes him a minute to get it. “You can leave your pants on if you want. In fact, that’d be really funny.”

Tommy once knew a guy who could take his underwear off while leaving his pants on, and he briefly wishes he’d learned the trick. There’s no real graceful way to get out of skinny jeans, so he flops down beside her and kicks his legs into the air, aiming to provide as much entertainment as possible and wondering why in hell he decided to wear skin tight black jeans in hundred degree heat anyway while he wriggles out of them. Allison snorts at his antics and rolls onto her side to watch, so when he finally kicks them away and lies there in nothing but his briefs, she reaches over to press her hand against the hard outline of his dick through the cotton.

Her touch is light and curious, darting between his face and what her hand’s doing, just marking the shape of him. He kicks his jeans over the edge and lies back, feeling the tension build in his spine. He’s been good so far, been so good, but he’s only human, and there’s a gorgeous girl naked in his bed stroking his dick with an uncertain expression and the desire to flip her over and just rut into her is strong. It only gets stronger as she gets bolder, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, and he bites his lip and lifts his hips, lets her strip him the way he’d done to her. His dick catches on the waistband and bobs up and down; he sees her bite her lip to hide a smile.

She looks up to his face again. “Anything I want?” she says, like she’s trying for coy.

He stretches his arms over his head. “I don’t think you could do it wrong if you tried,” he says, and grabs the headboard. She makes a little face that indicates she disagrees, and rubs her fingertips over his belly. When she touches his cock, it’s tentative, shy fingers more a torment than anything else, and he shifts his hips, restless.

She pins him down with one hand and a stern look, and strokes him a little more firmly. “Feels weird,” she says, holding the head between thumb and finger.

“Feels good,” he assures her. “Come on, little harder.” She obliges, curling her fingers more confidently, pressing to test way it feels. It feels awesome, is how it feels, and Tommy hangs on to the bed grimly, lets her play. She seems fascinated by his foreskin, slides it back and forth so the head of his cock is peeking out then disappearing, and then she cups his balls, weighs them and presses them very gently.

“Huh,” she says, and smiles up at him. “It’s so,” she shakes her head, “if I say ‘soft’, will you be mad?”

“Feels pretty hard,” he tells her, not offended. He reaches down to cup himself, rub a thumb over the head. “The skin, though, yeah. Soft.” Their fingers tangle together, and he shows her how he likes it, and she watches their hands stroking him up and down. He lets himself feel it, arches his hips up into the motion and sighs happily until he has to pull away, and push her hand away too, or he’ll be useless to her the rest of the night.

“Okay, sunshine,” he says, pressing his palm against the base of his cock. “I think I promised to take care of you?”

She blushes – blushes more, her cheeks are already pink, and get pinker – and says “You don’t have to.” But she’s already falling onto her back, her knees tucked together, some parody of innocence.

“Oh, I want to,” he promises. “I really, really want to. Is that okay with you? Don’t say yes just because.”

“I,” she says, but can’t stutter out another word. She just nods her head, and when he strokes her knee with his thumb, lets her thighs fall apart.

“You can pull my hair, I don’t mind,” he says, settling on his elbows. “But gentle on the ears, okay? A girl ripped an earring off me once. Kind of a mood-killer.” That doesn’t even get a laugh; she’s biting her lip and watching him, wide-eyed. He kisses the soft skin of her inner thigh, presses his teeth gently. “Relax. Come on, relax, honey, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

She touches his hair, slides her fingers into it. “It’s already, like ten times better than before.”

A little kissing, some petting, some cuddling, isn’t that amazing, but he gets what she means. “Well hang on tight, Alli, I’m gonna blow your mind.”

She makes a breathy, punched-out noise when he gets his mouth on her, maybe of shock, and then a low moan. Tommy’s fucking good at giving head, it’s a point of pride, and Allison’s a total dream of a girl, sweet and responsive and so shy. Every noise he gets out of her is a triumph, and he takes it as a challenge, to make her lose it, to crack her open.

She likes having her clit sucked gently, swears and bucks and yanks his hair, but the little nibble with his teeth his tries is too much, too sensitive, shoves him away. Long, sloppy licks of his tongue make her pant for breath and when he gets a couple of fingers in her to curl up and press she goes completely nuts, thighs squeezing around him as she curses and writhes and makes little gasping, moaning noises like she’s just too overcome to even function.

He loves this, loves it so much, and he’s never understood guys who won’t do it or think it’s gross. Alli’s coming apart under him, and all his senses are full of her, the rich taste heavy on his tongue, her noisy, helpless breathing, the way she’s trembling as he pushes her closer. She’s so responsive, no barriers left now, totally lost in what he’s giving her, and he could keep her here for a while, back off just enough to hold her on edge for hours.

He doesn’t, though, just fucks his fingers in a little harder and rubs his tongue over her clit, steady pressure, and she keens as she comes, clenching around his fingers and flailing her feet against the bedspread. It’s unspeakably gorgeous, and he presses her through it, keeps at her until her chest is heaving and her body is twitching and she flails weakly at his head.

“Tommy,” she says in this dazed little voice. “Tommy, jesus.” 

He presses his face against her thigh. He’s wet with her, messy and slick on his mouth and down his chin, and he licks the taste off his lips. “Okay? Still with me?”

She gives a little drunken handwave. “Gimme a minute. That was. I’m just.” Her breathing’s still slowing, her eyes closed, she’s clearly busy with some serious afterglow, so he kisses the crease of her thigh and leaves her to it.

Quick trip to the bathroom to wash his face, get a drink, and he blinks at himself in the mirror. His eyeliner’s smeared and running, hair askew, mouth all swollen and shiny – yeah, he looks like he’s been having sex. It’s kind of awesome. He pokes out his tongue at his sexy mirror self and goes back to Alli.

She’s kicked the comforter down to the end of the bed and is sitting up on the white sheets, stacking pillows against the headboard. “How you trucking, baby girl?” he asks.

She smiles at him, a little shyly, like she’s not naked in his bed. The scrap of skirt she’d been wearing is gone, nothing but lean, pale limbs, beautiful. “You’re beautiful,” he says, and she blushes.

“I wanna try something?” she says, like a question.

He spreads his hands out and gets up on the bed beside her. “Anything you like.”

“Sit here?” she says, and pushes him so he’s propped up on what must be every pillow she could find, legs stretched out in front of him. She nods and tucks her hair behind her ears, leans on his shoulders to climb into his lap, a leg on either side of him. “I thought maybe like this.” She rocks closer, close enough to kiss him. His cock is hard between them, brushing against her belly, and he knows he’ll do anything she wants, anything she asks, for a whole great tangle of reasons he can’t unravel. If she wants it like this, then they’ll do it like this.

He hooks an arm around her waist. “Absolutely,” he says, already groping on the nightstand for the condom. “C’mere, gimme a kiss.”

She’s so distracting, girl in his lap, arms around his neck and naked skin. He fumbles with the condom, can’t make it work when an hour ago he’d have sworn he could do it in his sleep, finally has to break away from her lush mouth so he can watch his hands – when did the shaking start? She’s wet for it, groans loudly when he slides his fingers into her again, quick. He doesn’t have to ask if she’s ready, she’s so fucking ready, and when he takes her by the hips, she reaches down between them to fit his cock to her body and slides down easy and smooth as anything.

“Baby,” he says. He’s totally stunned, this wave of affection sweeping him out of nowhere as he watches her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks. “Alli. Allison.”

She smiles vaguely in answer, head tilted back and eyes closed, just feeling him inside, her fingers still touching where they’re joined. It’s not a great position for fucking, since Tommy’s got no leverage to thrust up and Alli’s not at the best angle to move herself, but it’s shockingly intimate. He’s got all of her right there, so close in his arms, and he can just gather her up and kiss her and rock them back and forth. She makes a contented little noise and kisses his ear, licks the rings there, and then his jaw, his cheek.

“That feels nice,” she says, blurred around the edges. “Tommy, Tommy, that feels good.” There’s a note of surprise there that makes him smile, makes him want to prove to her how good it can get, and he strokes her back and slides his hand down to squeeze her ass, kisses her softly. Her knuckles are bumping his stomach as she touches herself, and he murmurs nonsense against her mouth, encouraging.

He’d be happy with this, just holding her cradled against his chest while she gets herself off on his cock and her own fingers. It’s not doing much for him like this, but he can watch her, he’s as visual as any other guy, and she’s fucking stunning all caught up in her own body, but she frowns as she presses down against him, hips seeking something deeper, maybe a rhythm, and it sends lightning up his spine when she clenches down on him.

His kisses her again, bites her chin to get her attention. “Baby. Can we move? You wanna lie down?” She blinks at him, shoves her sweaty hair back again, and nods. A little hurt noise when she moves away, when he slips out of her, and he rubs his hands up her arms and kisses her, guides her back to lie on the bed so he’s cradled between her thighs. “Missionary position,” he tells her. “Never goes out of fashion.”

Her eyes light with humour. “Why’s that?” she asks, a little breathless, and he pushes back into her, making her arch up.

“No p’ticular reason,” he says. He can move, now that they’ve shifted position, and she gasps as he rocks into her; no hurry, no pressure, just feeling her give under him. “Just – just because, Alli, fucking hell -” Maybe they shouldn’t have moved, because the night’s activities are catching up with him, and he’s not going to last long, not like this. 

She’s so hot, like she’s burning up, her whole body slick with sweat, and she’s giving these hitching moans as he moves in her, helpless little hiccups of sound. “Tommy,” she manages, “Tommy, baby, please, I need.” She tosses her head to the side and hitches a leg further up his hip; it changes the angle enough that he sinks deeper, and they both groan. The arm supporting him from crushing her almost buckles, and he has to stop what he’s doing to reposition himself.

“Please,” Allison whimpers, and digs her heel into the small of his back, and Tommy has a blinding moment of ‘holy shit bendy’ before the amazing urgency in her voice strikes him; she’s twisting a little, fingers creeping down her own belly, her eyes wild.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says, rough. He catches her hand, kisses the fingers, and then reaches down between them; he’s spinning out of control, but he’ll take her with him. He’s a gentleman like that, and anyway, he promised to take care of her. She’s slick and wet and his fingers slide helplessly over her flesh, she makes a loud noise and bucks up. It takes him a minute to locate her clit with his suddenly-clumsy fingers, and longer again to figure out a rhythm with his fingers and his hips and the way Alli is shoving up against him, demanding and a little desperate.

She touches his face as things fall into place, pushes his hair away and strokes his cheeks; he lowers himself down until she can kiss him, her open mouth on his neck and ear and jaw. He wants to kiss her back, but his body is starting to make demands and he can’t think, can’t do anything but keep doing what he’s doing, his whole world narrowed down to her clenched tight and perfect around his cock. She’s gone wire-tense under him, one hand fisted in the hair on the back of his head, and she’s gasping like she’s run a marathon, and she freezes when she comes, her whole body in a sweet clean line with her toes clenching against the back of his thighs, yanks at his hair and sobs.

Tommy almost moans with relief and something he didn’t know he was holding back comes uncoiled. He fucks into her, not hard but sharp, short thrusts as it builds in the base of his spine; she squeaks and grabs at him, says his name, “Tommy, Tommy,” in that throaty voice and his arms give out and the world dissolves into bright sparkles and he buries his face in her shoulder and shudders his way through what feels like the end of the damn world.

Reality reassembles itself a piece at a time. Tommy is lying on top of Allison, and she is stroking his hair, and he ought to move because he must be crushing her. He thinks about it for a minute, and then she shifts and sighs, not unhappily, and he’s gone soft and slipped out of her and he really should deal with the condom and the cleanup, but his spine appears to have melted.

“I think my spine has melted,” he says, and it’s muffled against her skin.

“That’s okay, I don’t need your spine,” she returns vaguely, and Tommy groans and rolls off to the side. He is clearly the smartest man alive, because there is a clean towel right there on the nightstand. He doesn’t think he could have walked to the bathroom right now. He’s not sure he still even has feet.

Cleanup’s the work of a minute, even sparing Alli’s blushes, and he coordinates his limbs long enough to rearrange the pillows, which are everywhere. They’d somehow wound up sideways in the bed, and Alli wobbles a little as she follows him up to a more conventional sleeping position. She stays a little distant, though, like she’s going to sleep all the way over the other side of the bed, and he says, “Wait, there’s one more thing. Pay attention, this bit’s important.”

“Yeah?” she says, and she’s got the sheet pulled up over her shoulder, bright hair all spread out behind her, face all flushed and rosy and shy.

“Yeah. Afterglow. Cuddling. Get over here, woman.” She’s in his arms two seconds later, snuggled up against him, and Tommy breathes in the smell of her hair and revels in the way she feels and admits to himself that maybe he’s in a little over his head. His heart is not supposed to be doing this crazy twisting thing when she goes all limp and trusting against him, sliding easily and fearlessly down into sleep cradled against his body. The thought of her leaving in the morning shouldn’t be horribly disappointing; the realisation that she’s leaving the tour in a couple of weeks should sure as hell not having him near tearing up.

He is the clearly the biggest sap in the world and he has been so stupid, to think he could do this for her without getting tangled up. He’s never been able to separate sex easily from emotion, and the adoring protectiveness he already had for Alli was pushing the boundaries as it was; add in sex – seriously fucking awesome, amazing, blow-the-top-of-your-head-off sex – and Tommy had no hope. He’s totally gone. Sucker.

He wakes her early in the morning so she can get back to her room and shower before anybody starts looking for either of them, and she pulls on her clothes and has to hunt through the bedsheets, giggling, to find her panties. She kisses him goodbye before she goes, on either cheek and then on the mouth, supremely confident and saucy.

“Thanks for everything,” she says, pressing her nose against his cheek. “I owe you one, Tommy Joe.”

He rests his hands on her waist and shakes his head. She’s very young and sweet in the morning light, too young, filled up with confidence and sass and so much potential. He cups her face, turns it up to him, and kisses her, not to soothe her or reassure her or make her feel good, but selfishly, this one time, just for himself, lets it go on a little too long and little too lingering.

“Call it even,” he says.

END


End file.
